Blogging Myself Back To Whole

“And with that first brave, crooked line, she literally began to draw herself back into existence.”

Stephen King, Duma Key

***

I feel as if I have blogged the life back into myself. Written air back into my lungs and some kind of smile back on my face. Discovered myself an existence again, somehow kept myself attached to the essence of who I am, through all of this that’s happened.

I know, if you’ve been reading for a while, since the Before, you’ve watched it happen… watched the insides of me gasp for breath, then taking gulping sips of it, and sometimes it’s whooshes air in and out of my soul.

In the Before, this blog felt like a patchwork artwork of stories and writing and in-jokes and social networking, of photos and clips and links.

I remember sitting down to write that horrible post, in a friends lounge room, staring at the computer screen. It was a Thursday night, and my husband was lying unconscious in a bed in the ICU twenty kilometers away.

I used to run a meme on a Friday called FlogYoBlog.. it lives at Glow’s place now, if you’re interested. In fact, that’s what I was about to do, when Tony came home that afternoon and every shade of hell broke loose… I was just going to write a blog post. That’s all I had planned for my afternoon.

It occurred to me, sitting at the computer on that Thursday afternoon, that I could lie. Simply post FlogYoBlog as if nothing had happened, as if everything was normal… there were people In Real Life who were pushing for that, telling no one ‘until we knew for sure’, whether Tony would live or die.

It would have been so easy. Connections online, they can be so fleeting. Post FlogYoBlog, hit publish on the five or so posts I had in drafts folder sporadically over the next two weeks or so, then just stop blogging. A few people may have wondered where I was… but people disappear online all the time. The find other hobbies, different things to do.

I could have told no one what happened, except those flesh and blood Real Life people who would have found out anyway.

But that would have just been the beginning. That would have marked this as something to be ashamed of, a truth to slink from. There is no shame in this.

And so, I blogged. And I watched from behind a foggy wall of trauma of grief as my blog became an outlet for pain, and little more. Bleeding words all over the keyboard in a desperate attempt to get them out of my head. Obviously, all the things that embellish a blog- those pictures, links and what not- they disappeared from my posts, and it became little more than a continual expression of conscious, painful thought, that I can’t even read again now, and don’t remember writing.

It feels as if I’m blogging myself back into existence. Taking sustenance from what I get here; but also using it as emotional barometer. I can write about things other than the pain now. I can take the time to reread things without them biting them too hard. This has become a little more like art again, a little less like therapy.

Any of that aside, I’m just proud to call Carly a mate of mine. She has awesome boobs and an infectious laugh. She is brave, strong, outspoken, calls a spade a shovel, and she knows, even more than I do, what it’s like to have people be afraid of her. And she stares that in the face with grace, dignity and total kick arse-ed-ness.

I love the quote at the beginning of your blog. I know what you mean about writing. It's an escape from the everyday things for me. I can throw a God awful fit so eloquently, using words instead of throwing myself on the ground and screaming.

Lately, I have ate, slept, and breathed writing, especially the book I'm working on.

I'm so thankful that writing has helped you through everything, and I know it will continue to help you through anything big or small that you may encounter. You've grown so much, Lori, and that strength is returning. You have rose up to be a mighty woman. Despite the complete and utter torment that you went through to get to be this mighty woman, it suits you.

It's a small world Lori I started back reading ur blog as something to keep me company on night feeds through rascal rumps and I actually know Carly too from our little hometown and Kmart days Your amazing Lori! Jade

Oh Lori, I don't think you are scarey in the ways you believe you are. What happened to you, with Tony, that doesn't scare me about you. What scares me about you is your confidence, your complete "I will say/do what I want when I want to" which intimidates me. Makes me feel less of a person. Not worthy of your friendship. The stuff that happened with Tony is awful. It always will be. But it's not scarey, it hasn't ruined you.Not at all. x

I sense some healing too too. I'm so glad darling. You'll still have your ups and downs, but it sounds like you're having more good days than down. And it's so nice of you to throw some karma Carly's way. xo

Thanks so much for this post Lori – it is perfect. Blogging really does heal, and I am so grateful for the community that has formed around you to provide you support.Thank you for the birthday wishes I am not 30 til the 8th though! Still a bit of my 20s left!

Words have the most amazing power to heal, and am so glad they've helped do this with you, even though I'm sure the road is still a long one ahead.

Thank you for not shying away from sharing your story – I've kept you in my thoughts ever since and still play the "speak" message though my mind. And its all because you stood strong and made us welcome in your world x

A few months after a forest fire has swept through, leaving just charred cinders and black and grey ash, the first few buds and green shoots begin to emerge.

After another few months, the forest flourishes again, and there is new growth everywhere, all verdant green, full of potential and life. The effects of the fire are never totally gone, but soon the the abundance of new life takes over.

And, so it is with you. And so it will continue to be.

Lovely to see you re-emerging Lori, and to feel the panic and despair being replaced with optimism and smiles.